


Take These Broken Wings and Learn to Fly

by Wewheresobeautiful



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anxiety, Bisexual Dean, Hurt Dean, Rape/Non-con Elements, Top Dean, Underage Sex, sex repulsed dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-05-19 12:41:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 22
Words: 19,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5967748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wewheresobeautiful/pseuds/Wewheresobeautiful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's a bisexual sex-repulsed individual. only no one knows this. </p><p>Ever since he was a kid he has done anything he can to make his Dad proud. When he told his Dad he was a Virgin he wasn't so cool about it and Dean forced himself into his womanizer role.</p><p>Ever since Dad died Sam noticed some changes in his big brother and he's determined to know why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on my own expirance of being sex-repulsed. 
> 
> I can't account for sex-repulsed people all round but this is more for me and my own expirances being sex-repulsed than anything else.
> 
> You can find my Tumblr at wewheresobeautiful.Tumblr.com

Dean was fourteen when his Dad fond out. Just a kid, he hadn’t even fully gone through puberty yet; his balls hadn’t dropped, he couldn’t grow facial hair, hell he hadn’t even gotten his first pimple yet. His Dad had yelled. Loud enough to get the neighboring couple in the next motel room over to bang on the walls, Dean was just happy Sammy was out at an afterschool Mathlets comp. He called him names, ranted and raved about how no son of his could be a virginal Nancy this late in his life. How he wasn’t a real man, how he must be a faggot for not pounding a pussy by now, and Dean stood there and took it. Jaw clenched tight as he stared straight ahead at a patch of wall behind his Fathers shoulder. He could feel the tears burning in his throat but he knew better than too let any fall. He finished his rant when Sammy walked in, backpack over one shoulder and face looking up, open and confused at his fathers red face and heaving chest. Dad’s eyes softened, he hung his head and patted Dean on the shoulder before grabbing his coat and walking out the door, closing it with a soft thud, leaving Dean and Sam alone.

 

“What’s wrong?” Sam said, voice timid and soft in the sudden thick silence of the dingy motel room. Dean shook his head, rubbing his hands over his face with a deep sigh.

 

“Nothing Sammy. Want peanut butter for dinner? Dad even bought milk” Dean slapped on a smile, walking into the kitchen to pull out what he needed, buttering on a thick layer of peanut butter and pouring a cold glass of milk. He placed them on the table and took Sam’s backpack and coat, hanging them up on the old coat stand, Sam sat down, still looking warily up at his brother as he took small bites of his sandwich.

 

“You eating?” Sam asked around a mouth full of sticky peanut butter, quickly washing it away with a gulp of milk. Dean ruffled his hair, a forced smile on his face as walked around the table and towards the bathroom.

 

“In a minute Sammy, gotta shower first. Dave and me had a weaseling match today at lunch. Of course your big brother was the winner” with a wink and a grin Dean hoped he had derailed his brother enough, disappearing into the bathroom and closing the door with a long draw out sigh.

 

He could feel the tears ripping up his throat once more and hurried to turn on the shower and the sink, drowning the small room with the sound of running water as he collapsed against the bath, knees curled tight to his chest and he let go and wept. Fat tears rolling down his cheeks in rivers as his chest heaved and burnt, his throat felt raw and exposed. He’d fought ghosts, werewolf’s and skin walkers for his Dad and had the scars to prove it, but that wasn’t enough, not enough to make him proud. He would make him proud. He could do that, he could find some girl, have sex with her. He could do that. He closed his eyes trying to picture one of the girls in his class on her back, legs spread and naked. He tried to picture himself between her legs pushing himself into her, fucking her. His eyes shoot open as his stomach churned, his breath coming out in short huffs, his head swam and he rushed to the toilet, lifting the lid and vomiting violently into the bowl. He couldn’t, no it felt wrong, it felt off. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t. But then he thought of his Fathers disappointed face, his eyes so sad and solemn as Dean told him. He flushed and wiped his mouth on a wad of thin toilet paper, pushing himself up to look in the mirror, hands gripping either side of the sink as he looked at his blotchy, tear stained face. He could do this, for Dad. He’d make himself do it, if it was what Dad wanted. He splashed some water on his face, and cleaned his teeth, fixing his appearance for Sammy.

 

That was the first time Sam could remember his brother crying. Ear pressed to the bathroom door as he heard his brother sob and vomit under the sound of water rushing, his peanut butter and milk abandoned on the kitchen table. He didn’t know why but he knew Dean changed after that.

* * *

 

There was a girl. Older then him in the twelfth grade. Rumor had it she was into younger guys. Dean found her behind the sport shed, sucking off some twelve-year-old as he whimpered and pushed. He knew she was wrong, that she was not a good person. If she had been a subbuccas he would have torn her apart. But he needed her. He interrupted her and the kid, distracting her for long enough for him to run away, wiping at his face as he pulled his shorts back up.

 

“Well you owe me something now that you’ve scared of my afternoon delight” She said with a predatory smile. She was blonde, a bit chubby, very busty and had an air of innocent county girl about her. Dean took a deep breath, he felt like his lungs just couldn’t pull in enough air. But he pushed through it.

 

“How about this?” he said cupping his soft cock and balls over his jeans. Her smile made his skin crawl but he let her drag him to the girl’s bathroom, pull down his pants and underwear and fondle his genitals till they reacted. He kept his eyes closed the whole time, taking in measured breaths as she rode him making his body react as it should. She came three times on his small pre-puberty cock waiting for him to reach the same peak. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t do it. She left him there, pants around his ankles and his cock slowly softening and soaked in her juices as she spat obscenities at him and left. He sat there till the class bell rang. He threw up twice and cried once. He didn’t bother with the rest of the day. He grabbed his things and left. Running back to the motel he scrubbed his skin raw in the shower, sobbing in earnest.

 

When dad got home he slapped on a fake grin and told him the good news. Dad’s smile was so bright, he hugged Dean tightly and begged for details (“A gentleman never tells” he had said). Sammy came home, smiling as his Dad did but not knowing why. He could see his brothers face when Dad looked away, his eyes hollow and far away as his Dad ranted and raved about his big son, becoming a man at last. At the time Sam didn’t know what that meant but he assumed whatever it was, it wasn’t fun.

* * *

 

When Sam turned thirteen Dean told him to lie.

 

“If Dad ever asks if you’re a virgin say no”

 

Sam just nodded along and did as his brother said. Dad was so proud.

 

He didn’t lose his virginity till he was nineteen.

* * *

 

Before Collage Sam noticed it. Dean was drinking by the age of sixteen, downing beer and scotch whenever he could find it. His showers took longer and his skin was always pink and raw when he came out. He was always awake when Sam got up for a piss or a drink of water and he slept in as late as he could get away with. Dad would take him to bars, teach him to hustle pool and cheat at poker. On those nights Dean’s drinking increased, chugging Dad’s beers till he passed out in the bathtub. Sam never knew why. He assumed it was unwinding from the hunts, or maybe nightmares. When he asked Dean would snap his head off, tell him about how much of a nosey bitch he was until he backed off.

 

It made it easier to leave him for Stanford in the end. Sam only wished it didn’t.

* * *

Dean was a ladies’ man. That’s what Sam knew his as. Until Dad died.

 

They were living in each other’s laps. Sharing clothes and food. While Dean showered Sam would take a piss or brush his teeth (giggling as the tap tuned on or the toilet flushed and made the shower water run cold, forcing a shriek from his brother before he had a shampoo bottle lobed at his head). That’s how he noticed the changed. Yes, Dean still hit on anything with boobs and a heartbeat, and he went along with women when they flirted with him but he made excuses not to have sex. Every time.

 

“I’m on duty” with the flash of a badge.

 

“I’m Leaving town in a few hours, maybe next time” as he sipped his coffee

 

“Sorry, gotta take this. Have to take a raincheck on that offer” as he picked up his phone.

 

It had been over a month now of excuses and no being kicked out of the motel with a sock on the door handle. Dean wasn’t drinking, maybe a beer after a hunt but only ever one. His showers only took a few minutes instead of a few hours. He got up early and went to bed early. He looked happier. He was smiling and laughing, cracking jokes that didn’t include putting himself down. He was eating more. Even trying a bit of Sam’s salads or smoothies without insulting it too much.

 

Sam could see the connection but he couldn’t figure out why. No sex made Dean happy. Ever since he was a kid Dean seemed happy with sex, he seemed to enjoy picking up women and taking them home, or in the ally, or in the Bar’s bathroom on a few occasions. His brother was a bit of a man whore and he knew it and accepted it. It was never an issue as long as he had the car keys or a book to read while Dean did his thing.

 

He knew asking would only lead to insults and slammed doors. So he snooped.

* * *

 

Dad’s journal had a huge impact on his big brother. He knew that. For Dean’s eighteenth Dad had bought him a leather bound journal. Dean treasured it, kept it on him at all times, locked and safe in his duffle or on his person. It was an unspoken rule that personal duffels where off limits. Even since they were children. It was a boundary set to ensure that in this life they had some privacy, even if it was only a slither. Dean was out grabbing a few things for a witch hunt, Sam had tempted him with thick old books and long pages of university texts to ensure he was away.

 

He started by pulling everything out and laying it on the bed. Socks and jocks, shirts and jeans. He kept everything as it was folded and memorized where it all went. There were three books he pulled out; an old tattered copy of Treasure Island (Sam’s old favorite), a hardback cover of The Two Towers and an ever older copy of We’re Going on a Bear hunt, the back cover missing and some of the pages stuck back in with yellowing sticky tape. Sam stacked them carefully and put them on the bed. The last thing left was a tin box, battered and dented, the font that once advertised shortbread cookies fading and peeling. Inside was a small knife, silver with a carved wooden handle, Deans first dagger. A picture of Mum, torn from a newspaper, a part of Dad’s face visible along the torn edge. A few empty firecracker shells from they’re 4th of July night, years ago. And finally the journal.

 

The leather was polished and the lock gleamed. Pages stuck out from above and beneath but it was up kept, almost like new. Sam sat on the bed as he picked the lock, slowly but surely pushing up each pin until it clicked and sprung open. Inside the pages where a mess of scribbles and drawings. Mostly of creatures they had hunted but a few full pages of faces. Sam’s face at Age 8 was one of them, all chubby cheeked and wide eyed. The next was of a boy Sam remembered from the school in Ohio when they were hunting that shapeshifter, Matt or Mark or something. His face was soft and bright, smiling at the viewer with his plump lips and straight teeth. Hs eyes where in color, the only color Sam could find by flicking through the pages. A vivid blue.

 

Sighing Sam flicked back to the start. Getting comfortable on the bed he started to read.

 


	2. The first page

So Dad got me this journal to document our hunts but I don't really want to write about that. He said if I leave his alone he'll leave mine alone so I guess this is his way of giving me privacy and I know Sammy ain't gonna go looking in here after the whole love letter in his shoes incident. I want to talk about things I don't talk about, I guess. I don't really know how to write a journal. We had to write an essay about something that happened during the summer break one year, that was kinda like this. I wasn't very good at it, got a C I think. Sammy got an A, he definitely got all the brains. But I got the looks so I guess it's even. 

Well, I don't really know where to start. I'm not good at this writing thing, I never was good with words so I guess i'll just talk about my day. That's a thing people do right? In these kinda things. 

Well I picked Sammy up from school. He's grown so big. I'm certain the kids about to hit puberty and god knows how big he'll end up being then. He got another A on his history test, I know dad would be proud if he was here. Sammy's kinda use to him being away now, still I know how disappointed he gets when dad's not there to congratulate him. I brought him a coke and a Twix from the vending machine outside our room and let he watch whatever nerd show he wanted. That seemed to cheer him up. God, soon Sammy would be graduating, he'd be old enough to drink with me. I keep thinking he's still the same snot nosed kid that use to steal my poptarts. Not anymore I guess. 

I hope he finds someone. I hated asking him to lie last year but it had to be done. Soon dad would be asking and I didn't want Sammy to get in the same trouble I did. He’s a good kid, he deserves a nice girl and a stable life. Maybe we could be lucky enough to stay for a month and Sammy could find a nice girl in his class. I know he's sweet on that Jess chick he's always hanging around. That could really be something if we stayed long enough. I know dad’s just after a vamp, we'll stay a week tops if we're lucky. Sometimes I think about asking dad to leave Sammy with Bobby, let him go to a real school and have a home but I can't even think about losing him. Sammy's all I've got.

I guess that's what this is for. This journal thing. I know he'll leave some day. He ain't cut out for the life like me and dad. Sammy's going places and when he's gone imma need someone to talk to. Well something I guess. It could be good. I'll try and keep up with it. Maybe not everyday. Maybe once a month. That sounds reasonable. Alright I'll write in here every month. It'll be good. 

Anyway, I never know how to end these things. I guess I say goodbye? But that sounds bogus. 

See you next month? 

Yeah that sounds better


	3. Scholarships

So it's been more than a month, I know. But I really have been too busy to get enough time to write any of this...Feeling stuff. 

Sammy's upset we had to move schools again and Dad’s taking it out on me since this last hunt was way more than a two person job. I mean I'm good and dad's on his game but a poltergeist being Voodoo mind controlled by a witch? Now that's a three person job. I can still feel the bruises, she bitch managed to dislocate my shoulder. I know why he does it and I don't blame him. The works all dad's got. Sometimes he forgets that he has us to. But that's fine, as long as he doesn't take it out on Sammy I'm cool. 

In other news Sammy's gone and got himself a scholarship offer. I knew the kid would go places. I want him to take it, I really do but they will only let him if he completes his last three years in the same school. We haven't told dad yet. I don't think we ever will. I know Sammy will get another, he's smart, what University wouldn't want him? But he's still a kid and in his head this is his one and only chance. I hate it but I'm going to tell him to turn it down. He'll get another, no problems there. He's too young to be getting on Dad's angry side. 

I haven't told him, or anyone else for that matter, but back ages ago mum tried to get me into a real fancy pants boys high school. I opened the letter before dad; the waiting list was so long that I didn't hear till I was graduating primary school. I got in. It was nice, they said good things about me and I felt like for once in my life I could be something, something that didn't involve shooting a buck shot of salt into cans for a living. I tore it up and threw it away in the bins outside the motel. Dad never found out and in a way I think I did the right thing. Sammy was still a baby in Dad’s mind and he said I reminded him of mum, same eyes. I couldn't do that to him. Sometimes I wish I did. Maybe it could have lead to a better life for me and Sammy. I don't know. It just got me thinking.

I should talk about other stuff. I don't know. This was meant to be a thing to help with all this emotional crap but I'm not good at it. How about last night, after the hunt. That was emotional I guess. Dad had me husslein the pool table while he challenged a few guys to poker. Sammy was asleep back at the motel, dad slipped a six shooter under his pillow, I guess that was nice. Some girls started chatting me up. I was tired and everything hurt, I was all ready to blow them off and tell dad we should get back before Sammy woke up but then I looked over and he looked so proud. I never thought this was how I would manage to make dad proud. So I took one of them back to the bathroom. She was a nice girl, studying law at the college near by, apparently they were on some break or something? I don't know. I have no idea how I managed to keep it up. That's embarrassing enough. I didn't want to disappoint dad so I did what needed to be done. I didn't sleep. Sammy noticed. I tried to pretend it was the bruises and my shoulder that was bothering me, I think he knows it's not that. Like I said, smart kid. 

I want to tell him. I think he'd understand better than anyone but I know what him and dad are like. It's better I don't otherwise I'll lose them both. 

I'll try to keep up with this. I'm just sought of going through the motions right now, I don't think about this thing I started. I'll write after hunts. Maybe that will help.


	4. Rocky and the stripper

I'm an idiot. I said I'd write after hunts and this one was deserving. Just let me start by saying for my 16th birthday dad got me a stripper, I paid her extra if she faked it and we just watched TV. Turns out she was really into Rocky, we watched the first two and she made me grilled cheese. She was great, I still have her number, never called it. Maybe I should, we never did finish Rocky. 

Anyway, I remembered the place dad hired her from and I look at it every now and then, yeah I should really call her, then it popped up that it had been closed for a month because of incidents with the 'dancers’. I looked into it and turns out two guys had offed themselves in the booths whole something poor girls had to watch. Now that wasn't the weird part, the weird part was one guy went by swallowing candle wax from the tables and the other slit his throat with a sharpened credit card. Either way those guys were committed. So we track this thing, I find out she's quit after all the murders and is now working as a barmaid (I gotta admit I was relieved, dad could never know), and two girls have shown up and gone in two weeks only for a new one to start the day before we got there. Dad figured it was a siren. I didn't argue. So dad made a plan, I hated the plan. He wanted to send me in there to get picked up by the thing and then I would lead it outside and dad would slice my arm and stab the bitch. It was a stupid plan but it was dads plan, so I did it. 

I shouldn't have. 

I was sitting a booth, drinking a beer and watching the girls dance. They were nice and all and they could tell I wasn't there for a private session, I tipped them anyway when they came over, they were nice about it. Then some guy cuddled up to my side. It was Max, older and in a suit rather than a pair of dirty jeans and a baseball shirt, but max all the same. I couldn't handle it, he was so nice, saying such good things about me, his hand on my thigh. It was hard remembering he wasn't him, that this Max was a monster and dad was outside waiting for me to bring him out. So I did what I had to do. I took him to the bathroom and kissed him. I always wanted to do that, back in the day. Kiss him properly not all wet and sloppy like teenagers do. But then I had to kill him. I sliced my leg and stabbed him in the heart, watched him crumble into one of the stalls. I hated that, I hated it so much. It was like watching him die all over again. So I ran. 

Sammy wasn't happy with me. He was in the middle of a debate team meeting and then me and dad were there dragging him out of the city before anyone found the body. 

Dad left me alone in the motel while he took Sammy out to get dinner. I sewed the wound shut in the bath, naked and wet as I thought about his face, it was so scared. But it wasn't him, it was some monster bitch wearing his face. I couldn't get it out of my head, I still can't. Sammy keeps yelling at me because I'm keeping him up with my pacing. I can't sleep, I just can't. 

Maybe one day he'll understand.

Scrap that, I hope he never does.


	5. The first

Sam knew he should leave it there. Put everything away and make himself busy finishing the hunt or researching the enochian traps Cas wrote down for him, but he couldn't put Deans journal down. In the hour he had been reading he knew more about his brother than the 20 or so years he'd been alive and loving in his pocket. He flicked back to the picture of the boy with blue eyes. Max. 

That's right, the kid from Texas when they spend the summer there trying to break up a pack or werewolves. They were staying at a ranch with some other hunter family and they had a kid, same age as Dean at the time. I think he was 17, it's been so long. They were joined at the hip, Sam remembered dad didn't like that, I guess he knew why now. Sam remembers trying to get Dean to show him how to throw a football and being brushed off because Max found something cool in the woods. Sam now knew what was so cool, snogging behinds their backs under evergreens. 

God, Dean was in love with Max. 

But what happened to him. They left soon after the hunt was over, both family's packing up and rushing off in opposite directions. Sam never saw them again, come to think of it he didn't even know their last names. Dean stayed with Bobby for a few days after that, getting trained in the more academic side of things while Sam was dragged off to yet another school. Maybe that was why, Dean was broken hearted? But dad couldn't even pick up that Dean wasn't a sex machine, how the hell would be ever know Dean was mourning? 

He'd been through it.

Sam often forgot that their dad had lost not only their mum but his wife as well. He didn't really understand the pure mad drive behind his dad's hunt of the yellow eyed demon till he lost Jess. So maybe, in his weird way dad understood. 

Dean would be back soon, Sam knew that. He needed to pack it up, get rid of the evidence but he couldn't. His brothers whole life was a mystery. Sam now understand why Dean was so pushy when it came lying to Dad about his virginity, now Sam understood. He always knew Dean did everything he could to protect him, Sam just never realised in how many ways. 

Jess was his first and Sam liked it like that. It was his choice of when and where and with who, Sam wanted it to be special and it was. Now he dreaded if Dean's first was in here. Naively Sam hoped it was Max, but he knew in his gut it wasn't. That day when Dean was a kid and Sam walked in on them yelling, when Dean brushed it off and made him a peanut butter sandwich, when Sam stood at the bathroom door and listened to his brother cry and vomit under the sound of the crappy motel shower, that was the day. It must have been. Dad was so proud the next day, Dean gave his first away to please Dad. Sam felt sick. 

He packed everything away, went to the crappy dining table and flicked through one of the old books, looking at hex bags and curses. Dean would be back soon. When the time came, Sam would go back to the journal, he would find out more. He needed to be prepared for the day he asked Dean about Max.


	6. Mark of gold

Dean hated witches. They were gross and creepy and just all around fucking weird. Sam had suggested he sit at the motel and research what the heck was in that creepy ass hex bag they found at the chicks house but Dean didn't want to be within six feet of it. So he grabbed the list Sam made for some ceremony they might need to do and rushed off out of there. The stuff was easy to find if you knew where to go and luckily Dean did. It took him about half an hour to find it all, but Sam didn't need to know that. 

So Dean decided the bar might be fun. The town there were in was one of those really old English towns that people kept as heritage places to bring the tourists. The bar was old and full of heritage crap. The only modern thing was the taps that had samples of local beer, even the wine was in giant barrels behind the bar surrounded by bottles of liquor, syrups and mixers. He didn't even really want a drink, Dean just wanted to not go home and this was an old excuse that Sam fell for every time. So he ordered whatever beer they claimed to be the local speciality and watched the game on the old box telly hanging in the corner with a small group of other mid day drinkers. It was nice, peaceful. For a moment when the quarterback managed to fumble the ball and lose it to the rival team cause an uprise of angry grunts from the room that he forgot he was here to kill some member of these peoples community. He let his guard down, just for a second, he knew dad would have been angry with him if he was still alive but he wasn't and Dean was allowed to shut off for a minute or two. 

He guessed that was why Cas was able to get the jump on him. Sitting down on the stool next to him and burning a hole in the back of his head till an ad break came on and Dean returned to his beer only to slop half of it down his shirt in shock.

“God damn it Cas we've talked about this! I'm buying you a bell or something” Dean muttered angrily as the bar man handed him a handful of napkins with an amused smile. 

“I'm sorry Dean, It’s not in my nature. I need to tell you something about the witch” Dean dried himself to his best abilities as everyone went back to watching the game, the bar man cleaning glasses and still quietly chuckling at Dean's misfortune. 

“Yeah? What about her? Do you know who she is cause we sure as hell don't and i ain't putting myself up for bait this time, Sam can do it” he downed the rest of his beer, a precaution in case Cas managed to jump scare him again by sneezing or something. 

“No need for bait, and yes I do know who the witch is and it is not a she it is a he. I believe you know him, well that you know his son I should say” Dean groaned and signalled for another beer as the bar man sighed and filled up the sticky glass handing it back to Dean and turning back to the TV, hoping he hadn't missed the last few minutes. 

“Yeah? What makes you think I know someone related to that fucking gross profession?” Cas shifted in his seat with a sigh, flattening his thin blue tie.

“I believe you knew a boy named Max in your youth. His death was... Unfortunate” Dean ground his teeth together, trying to stay calm as every muscle in his body tensed. He peeled his fingers one by one off his beer glass to form a tight fist next to it. 

“You don't talk about him, ok? No one talks about him. What does this have to do with the witch bitch anyway? Spit it out and piss off. I need a stiff drink” Dean downed the rest of his beer on two long chugs before gesturing the bar man again and ordering four shots of vodka. 

“No Dean, you don't” Cas sighed, rubbing his hand over his forehead and closing his eyes as Dean downed a shot with practiced ease. When Cas pulled Dean from hell his body was a mass of sin and toxins. Cas had cleaned Dean off the sins of the flesh with great anger. He knew the difference between a willing sin and an unwilling sin. Each mark he scrubbed was unwilling, and there was many. But among them was one, a mark of innocence, a pure gold amount the shades of black. Cas had cherished that mark as he placed Dean back together, making him whole and new again. The toxins were harder, a dark brown amongst the black, so much spread across his liver and heart, his very core filled with the need for relief from all that black. But then Cas remembered the gold and he continued until Dean was restored to his purest form. Each drink was another brown mark, slowly muddling the gold. Cas was thankful there was no more black to accompany it. 

“The witch is Max’s father. He believes he is avenging his son but he has lost sight of his task and has gone mad with the power of life over death. The women he is killing is as a trial for the time he finds his true enemy. You must stop him, before another innocent soul is sent to my home” Dean downed his next shot and look over at Cas, his big blue eyes begging. Dean sighed and gulped his last two shots and stood up, slapping some money on the bar and walking out. 

“Fine, but for Max, not you” 

Even Dean knew that wasn't true.


	7. Blue eyes

They had found the witch, Dean knew exactly who he was looking for and Sam wanted to know how but everytime he asked Dean told him to mind his own beeswax and buried his head in a book. Sam had never seen his brother interested in witches before, in fact he hated them with a passion. There's was something he was not telling Sam and he was determined to find out what. So when Dean left to grab dinner and some more rock salt to replenish their dwindling supply he hunted for the journal once again. He had seen Dean write in it the night he came back reeking of beer and vodka only to pass out on his bed ten minutes later and wake up from a nightmare screaming half an hour later. He didn't write for long, Sam just hoped it made sense.

So he pulled out the box, moved the books and pictures and grabbed the journal. He flipped past years of pages and found the last entry. It wasn't long at all. A sentence with a rough drawing. Those bright blue eyes.

**_It's his dad, the bastard._ **

The witch, it was Max's father. Now Sam understood. Dean was out for blood. Was it him that killed Max? Was he a witch back when they knew them?

Sam flicked through the pages and pages of text, symbols and drawings. Next time. Next time he was alone he would read as much as he could, find every mention of Max and unravel what his brother would never tell him.

For now he put the journal away and got back to work. If Dean was going for blood then Sam would have his back.


	8. The golden goose

Cas had watched over Dean since he was a small child, resting in his mother's arms in the clean hospital bed. Zachariah assigned him to watch over the boys, but Dean was his favorite. He knew that Mary would have to die. The first four years of Dean's life Cas dreaded. His smile, his laugh, his childish innocence. Cas knew it would end in flames. As he grew Cas stood by his side, in the shadows or just out of reach. His grace floating in the air, surrounding Dean as he slept, giving him good dreams till he could no longer fight off the bad ones.   
The night his father pushed him into losing his innocence Cas had to leave in fear of hurting John with his first experience of pure anger. Dean was never the same after that night, Cas could see the black crawling up his soul, slowly dragging him down till the brown covered it like a strange blanket. Cas spent many nights wrapped around Dean as he slept, just like he did when he was a child. The nightmares dug into his wings, ripped off his feathers and burned his flesh, but he held tight. Dean would endure the night and so would Cas. He would not leave him alone to fight the black in his slumber. 

Zachariah hated it. Cas was to involved, any mud monkey could see it. He was in love. So he did what needed to be done. He sent a boy. 

Max was like his mother. A true believer. No bible thumping, no church, just blind faith in the lord and his angels. It was easy to convince the boy to help his angels, to take the effected grace from his best angel and use it to fulfill a pipe dream. Naomi took the grace, a single gold further from Cas as he lay still under her control. The boy took it, pressed it to his chest where it disappeared. Two days later the angels sent him Dean. 

They laughed, they cried, Dean confessed his sins and Max listened. Cas’ love burning deep in his heart as it was finally addressed, truly reciprocated. They kissed and hugged in the forest. They would case dragonflies and catch tadpoles in their bare hands. They were innocent children for the first time in years. 

But then Dean started getting too attached. Talking of leaving with his brother, running away with Max. Zachariah could not have that. There was a plan, God's plan, and it needed to be followed. He sent a demon after them, killing priests and their children, he knew they could not resist stopping him. So the family's rushed after it. Dean and Max, the fathers and the sons fighting a beast too strong for them. He split the children from the men, sending Dean and Max down to the pits of the church, into the underground mausoleum, true martyrs of the lord's bones surrounding them. He had the demon rip out Max's heart as Dean watched, helplessly pinned to the wall. It was glorious. The feather returned to Cas as Max's soul ascended to heaven. 

Cas was broken. 

Zachariah bathed in his glory. Castiel fell back into line, became the perfect soldier. 

Then Dean was sent to hell and Cas ran after him.


	9. Brown Eyed Boy

They had traced him to a dodgy club, an obvious hot spot for prostitution and drugs, but the cops turned a blind eye. It was a bad area but they kept to themselves, allowed the town to have its old timey effect while they laid lowed, more towards the back end of the road. They had to drive pretty far out to find the place, middel of nowhere with a dirt cross road out front and a broken condom machine in the toilets. Dean felt like he was choking. He hated places like this, dad had taken him enough to times to cheat money off suckers and bang some willing girl that the meer sight made his skin crawl. But he needed to do this. Max deserved better than some scumbag dad gone dark side, even in death. 

So he and Sammy huddled up in a booth, hidden in the shadows and drinking a beer each. He was just sat at the bar, chatting up the barmaid who clearly could not care less. His eyes were brown. Dean remembered that Max always bragged about how he looked nothing like his dad, except for his eyes. 

Dean took a sip of his beer, staring at the crappy menu. Max’s eyes were blue. Bright, sky blue. Dean remembered them so well. He may have lost the details of Max’s face over the years but he always remembered his eyes. They way they looked at him, the pure adoration. Not even Sammy had looked at him like that back when he was a kid, worshiping his big brother. It was like Max knew him, truly knew him. He never pushed, he never asked, he just let Dean take what he needed. He never let himself act on his attractions to men. He just kept it buried deep, deep, deep down with the rest of his emotional crap. His journal was the one escape. He was using it less these days, years ago it was his only way to stay sane. Especially when he meet Lisa. She was never as good as max, she understood but she pushed. The weekend was amazing, they talked, they cuddled but it was not enough for her so he left. He missed her. 

The Journal was private. His private place. He knew he would be writing in it tonight. Max’s father would have to die. 

“You ok?” his eyes snapped to his brother. God he'd gotten big, Dean had never truly noticed how much his brother grew in their time away. His hair was longer, his jaw more prominent, his brown furrowed into deep lines and that's not even mentioning his height. His little brother wasnt very little anymore. 

“His eyes are brown” Dean looked over at the man again and Sam's gaze followed.

“Yeah they are. We don't have to do this now you know. We can track him back to his room, call Cas in and get him to like, de-witch the guy” Dean knew Sam was just trying to help, he could see that Dean was different on this case but he couldn't stand the idea of Cas getting anymore involved in this fuckpie of his own making. Cas was definitely in the journal, a lot. There was a good reason for that. He chugged half his beer and leaned back to stare at his brother.   
“No, we need to get this done. The guys not gonna stop unless we make him. You got the stuff?” Sam pulled out the small bag of herbs from his pocket with a weak smile. 

“Yeah all set, you got your knife?” Dean opened his jacket slightly to show the small hunting knives handle peaking out from his waistband. He looked back over at the bar, Max’s dad was pulling out his wallet, slapping some wrinkled notes onto the wood finish before staggering out the door.

“Let's go” Dean Finnish his beer and headed for the door as Sam rushed behind him, pulling out the herb bag and sliding it to Dean as they followed him out to his car as he struggled with the keys. Dean pulled out the knife, opening the bag to rub the various things onto the shinned and sharpened blade. They watched as he slowly managed to get the door open and jump inside only to grab a shoe box and step back out. Sam held a hand against Dean's chest, forcing him to wait as Max’s father fell to his knees in the middle of the dirt roads, sobbing as he dug a hole with his bare hands and buried the box inside. 

“What's he doing?” Sam asked as he watched the man stand back up, hands filthy and body swaying. Dean clenched his jaw, huffing out an angry breath as handed Sam the knife. 

“He's making a deal” 

Dean didn't hesitate in walking out there and knocking the old man to the ground. Kicking sand in his face to ensure he would stay there as he dug the box from the ground and went to walk away, having interrupted the chant and removed the needed objects. 

“Winchester?” Dean tensed. He looked.over at Sam who went to take a step forward, nodding to the knife. Dean just shook his head. 

“Stay quiet and stay down or I'll finish this myself” Dean ground out through gritted teeth. He couldn't look at him. He wouldn't. 

“Please, I just want him back” he could hear the old man's voice break as he started to sob again. Dean couldn't take it, thinking about Max as too painful. He opened the box. There was a family photo, Max and his mother and father in a clean looking suburbia house. His eyes were brown. 

“We all do” Dean took the photo and dumped the box on the ground before pulling out his pistol from his waistband and shooting the last connection to Max square between the eyes. 

Sam ran over, grabbed Dean by the sleeve and pulled him away. He nicked the old man with the knife to ensure his soul could not return and dragged his brother back to the car. They left one hour later and didn't stop driving till midnight the next day.


	10. Swings and roundabouts

Dean didn't sleep for three days. Sam watched him pace, clean the guns, pack the salt rounds and look for hunts on Sam's laptop. Dean was drinking again, he never saw his brother without a glass bottle or silver flask in his hands. His showers were getting longer, his skin a bright pink when he left. It was like Dean was 14 all over again. By the fourth day Sam couldn't take it and he called Cas. He made up some.excuse about getting them a take out for dinner and rushed off as his brother grunted in acknowledgment as he flicked through four local newspapers for suspicious deaths. Dean wasn't eating either, Sam was scared. 

He walked down to the park behind the motel. It had a little play area made up of a set of swings and a slide no parent would be comfortable putting their child near. He sat down on one of the swings, the chains creaking in an unsettling manner, and swayed softly for a few seconds just thinking about what he was going to say. Cas always liked Dean more than him. He always answered Dean's calls. Sam hoped he would make the exception this one time, he wanted his brother back. 

“Cas? I hope you can hear me. It's Dean, he's…he's not himself. I need your help. Maybe you could like talk to him or something? I don't know, he always seems to listen to you-” the frame creaked as Cas flew down and sat on the swing next to Sam, coat tails swaying softly as he gripped the chains and looked over at Sam with this big blue puppy dog eyes.

“Max's father. I had hoped to lead you off the witches trail” Cas sighed, looking down at the sand, white and filled with rotting leaves from the trees around them. Sam wouldn't be surprised if this place was used as a drop spot for drug dealers. 

“Yeah. Dean's been off ever since he wasted the guy. I was hoping you could talk to him? Get him back to normal? He's kinda freaking me out” Sam laughed weakly as he wrung his hands in his lap. He really hoped Cas would help. He knew Dean wasn't a big fan of letting the angel mess with him but Sam really needed him to. He never wanted to see Dean the same way he was when dad was alive. He never thought he'd be glad that his father was dead but if Dean was happier for it then he was glad dad was gone. 

“Did he see the father's eyes?” Cas stared at Sam, pleading with his eyes while his mouth was pursed tightly. His knuckles white on the chains of the swing. Sam blinked in surprise.

“Yeah actually. He randomly mentioned that they were brown and then zoned off for a few minutes. Is it important?” Sam watched Cas’ face crumble. His eyes closed and his head fell into his hands as he let out a long suffering sigh. Sam wanted to reach out and comfort him. It felt like when Jess's mother died, he wanted to help but he knew there was nothing he could do but sit there and offer support in his presence. So he swayed on his swing, making the frame whine in the silence. 

“I'm sorry Sam. There is nothing I can do. I must ask that you and Dean never contact me again. I will still assist as best I can but I cannot see Dean. Please” Sam blinked and looked around the park, trying to gather why Cas, of all people, would want to isolate himself from his brother. But then he thought of Max's drawing, those bright blue eyes, and looked back at Cas. His eyes were just as bright, that sky blue, with the same intensity that Sam felt when he first saw Dean's full face drawing of Max the first time he opened that journal. Sam felt like he was missing something. 

“Um well...Could you at least maybe come in and help him sleep? Just to at least put my mind at rest. He hasn't so much at dozed off in three days!” Sam practically begged, he knew it might be a low blow but he needed Cas right now and if he wasn't willing to talk Dean out of this the least he could do is give Sam some time to do it himself. He saw Cas’ shoulders drop as he clenched his jaw and nodded stiffly. 

“Ok, if it will put your mind at ease” the swing swayed backwards as Cas flew off and Sam could see his silhouette in the window as he gently pressed his fingers to Dean's forehead, his brother body slumping into his arms as Cas gently picked him up and carried him to the motel bed, even going so far as to tuck the sheets over his sleeping form. Sam watched Cas stand over him for a moment, just looking before he disappeared.


	11. Lego firetrucks

Dean was in his room. Not the crappy motel one or even Bobby's place. His old room from the old house. He wasn't even sure he could remember it properly but then he saw the angel sitting above his bed. That's how he knew it was his room. 

There were fire trucks and teddy bears on the floor. A wooden trunk filled with Lego and painted in patchwork. And his bed, there was someone on his bed.

Those blue eyes.

A young max just laying casually in his childhood bed. He was too big for it, his feet hanging off the edge. He was smiling, staring at Dean in that same way. Pure adoration. 

“Hi Dean. Do you want to cuddle? We never got to in a proper bed remember? You always wanted to. We can now. You're safe” 

His voice was even the same. Soft and calming. Dean felt himself drifting over to Max. It felt like he was floating. He fell into his arms, held tight against the other boys chest. It was like his body was melting into the floor, all his worries and stress draining away, leaving him like putty as Max rubbed his stomach softly. His shirt lifted so Max's hand could rest against his bare skin. He could feel his heartbeat in each finger tip, the grooves and bumps, the scars and burns. 

Dean closed his eyes and dozed off. He felt at peace, like he was outside of his own body. He was floating through space, looking down at his own room but it was empty, the bed neatly made with no sign of disruption. Then he felt something brush against his cheeks. Soft and downy. His eyes fluttered open and he looked down at Max's hand that was still resting on his stomach only now it was holding something. Something gold. 

Dean furrowed his brow, reaching down to cover Max's hand with his own as he brushed his fingertips against the gold object. It was a feather. A single feather. Long and as soft as a cloud. Dean was scared it would disappear if he handled it too roughly. 

“Dean, help” 

That wasn't Max's voice. It was deeper, rougher. Like he was in pain. So Dean looked up. He wished he hadn't. 

He was suddenly encased in black feathers, still smoldering as if they had just burnt out. And there in the dark he saw Cas’ face, bloody and broken. His eyes were swollen shut. Dean felt all the blood leave his body to be replaced with ice. 

“Cas? Cas what happened?” Dean sat up, the walls of feathers expanding till they were in a large cave. No light poking through but he could still see Cas, clear as day. 

“Help, please” Cas was crying now, sobbing in earnest. Dean didn't know what to do. So he ran to him, suddenly miles away. He belted as fast as his legs could take him. 

“Cas! Cas!” He was screaming, screaming his name. He finally reached Cas, held his hands to his face and watched the blood disappear, the swelling go down, the bruises fade. Then he saw Cas’ eyes. They were bright blue. 

“Don't let him know, he can never know the truth. Don't tell Dean I beg of you” Cas was sobbing again, the black feathers all changing to gold, bathing them in light. 

He heard Sam's voice, calling out to him as the feather all fell, cracking the world around them, the sky filling with fire as Cas screamed and begged.

“Don't let him know!! Don't let Dean know!!” 

 

 

The motel room was still dirty. The laptop was still running. The food was still cheap and tasteless. And Sam was still sitting there, staring down at him. 

“You ok?” 

Dean got up and had a shower.


	12. A fall from grace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed it cause I didn't like the flow but don't worry I've got this all under control. 
> 
> Maybe.
> 
> Let's hope. 
> 
> For your sake

Zachariah hated the Winchester's. They're corruptive ways and there damaged souls. They were ugly and sinful. He hated seeing his best soldier around that putridness. Cas was a bright blue light, shining through there black and brown souls. He knew he could never resist the Winchester. He would go crawling back, kill their kind again, destroy all that he had worked for, his garrison, his army. He would not lose it now to a pair of mud monkeys. 

He knew what he had to do when Cas returned. He would show him that these Winchester's only cared about his power. That like all humans they where power mad. Cas was still talking to the abomination. Sitting in a swing. Then he was back with the black soul, his precious Dean, fucking him into bed like his mother. Oh Zachariah would have fun watching the angel suffer. 

He walked down the crisp white halls, passing room after room of training angels. Facing illusions and each other. At the end of the hall was Naomi's office. I was pure white, as of everything was washed out by light. To the naked eye all that could be seen was the chair and Naomi herself. 

“It's time” Zachariah smiled with glee as Naomi shook her head. 

“Are you certain? There is no turning back. You will be punished should god find out” she stood up, holding the needle in her hand. Zachariah nodded, smiling widely. 

“Yes, he needs to be brought back to grace” 

Cas heard his call. His brothers begging him to come home. Heaven was broken. They needed to defend. He took his last look at the sleeping Dean, rested his hand on his forehead. Then he left. Dean's heat still present on his palm. 

He woke up in the chair, Zachariah strapping him down with a sadistic smile. Naomi's hand on his chest, ripping his shirt open and giving her room to plunge the needle deep. He screamed. They laughed.


	13. Pages

So Sammy left today. I knew it was coming, I was the one that sent in his application letter. He didn't know luckily, just thought one of the teachers had recommended him. The English teacher was an old friend of the head of the law department at Harvard. Lucky break for me. 

Dad didn't take it well. I knew he wouldn't. There was shouting and screaming and blame being thrown around willy nilly. I just sat there on the bed and looked at Dad. Just thinking about how much work it was going to be now that we would be alone on hunts. He would drink every over, I knew he would and that want bars, bars filled with girls, girls that I'll have to flirt with, girls that dad will want me to fuck, girls that I'll have to take back and use just to make him trust me. 

I asked once why he never liked hunting with Max. He said he wasn't a real man, real men fuck as well as they hunt. I don't know how he found out Max was a virgin. But he did. 

I had to keep it up. Just forever. Sammy's never coming back. He's out of the life, free from it all. As much as I know I'll miss him I'd never wish this hell hole on him. Maybe he'll meet a nice girl finally, have kids, get a good job if this law degree thing works out. I hope he at least calls every now and then. 

I wouldn't blame him if he didn't. 

————————————————

I miss Max. 

I miss Sam. 

I miss Lisa. 

I don't miss dad. 

I shouldn't have gone to get Sam. I should have called Bobby. But two weeks before we bumped into a skin walker. He was talking about the yellow eyed demon as dad tortured him. Then dad was gone. I just woke up and he wasn't there and I was alone. 

So I caved. I knew we wouldn't find Dad but I just needed to see Sammy. Even if was just for a day or two. And it was amazing. Sam was doing so good and that Jess chick was amazing. 

Well she was. 

When I said I hoped Sam never knew what it was like to lose someone. I meant it. It wasn't a challenge for the universe.

I shouldn't have gone to see him. 

————————————————

I just got out of hell and my first thought was I was so glad Max wasn't there. 

My second thought was “what the actual living fuck”. But don't tell Sammy. He doesn't like me swearing. 

I don't know what to do.

Angels exist. I saw them.

Castiel. 

His eyes are blue. 

————————————————

I want the angel gone. I don't know how to handle it. He's….looking at me. 

It's not a bad thing. I just….

Since dad died I can't do...This anymore. At least with him I had a way of doing things. Which was not doing them at all. 

He looks like Max. Well like Max use to look at me. 

I can't take it. 

Sam's taking this whole angel crap hard. Apparently he's been praying. The feather heads weren't really living up to expectations. I gave up on all that awhile ago.

I wish there was no afterlife. Before I could live in blissful ignorance. But now I know. 

There's no escape. 

————————————————

It'a been so long since I wrote. I just wanted this to be somewhere to write what I can never say but since Sam's been back I haven't needed to. 

Dad's not here to push anymore. I'm free. It's like hell cleaned me somehow. I feel like I'm lighter. I haven't had to shag anyone on months. It's been so good. I feel like myself again. I mean I still try to uphold the image. Girls flirt and I flirt back but we never go any further. I can't let Sammy know. 

It's not even about me anymore. I know he'd be cool with it. He's cool with pretty much everything like this. I remember he had a mate back in primary school. Said she liked girls but that was ok cause he liked girls too. I'm glad dad didn't hear that. He would have had a fit. But I'm glad I was there to hear it. 

He's a good kid really. 

No this isn't about me anymore, it's about Sammy. If he knew, knew what I'd done...He'd know what dad was like. Truly like. 

He couldn't know. Dad was a good guy in Sam's eyes. Not the best dad or the most understanding but he respected the bloke and I'm not taking that away. 

If dad knew about Cas. 

Well let's just be glad he never will. 

————————————————

Sam closed the journal. Placing it back away in its tin then back into his brother duffle. Dean was whimpering in his sleep. Sam didn't want to know why. The poor guy can't even rest without strife. 

So Sam sits at his bedside and shakes him awake, watches as he gets his bearings and ignores Sam's concerns to have another blistering hot shower.


	14. Moo cow

Cas woke up in a field. It was morning. There was a cow eating grass beside his head. His chest hurt, his head hurt and he was starving. He stood up, his legs wobbling as the cow huffed in annoyance as kept on eating. Cas wished he knew where he was. There was a road, a dirt road. Maybe it would lead to a highway. Maybe he could find a phone and ring Sam and Dean. But he couldn't. He asked Sam not to contact him. The cow walked on and Cas decided to follow.

He was starving. 

Perhaps Jimmy was hungry, but how could he be? He had died years ago. Cas was walking in his corpse. Angels do not feed, they fight. He wanted to streach his wings but they weren't there. A phantom limb on his body. He felt strange. 

Perhaps he could call Bobby. The Winchester's seemed to adore the man, perhaps he would be willing to assist. The cow stopped and so did Cas. He sat beside her front foot, leaned back against her thick leg. The cow begun chewing on his coat. 

“I can't hear you” he stated, looking over at the cows large brown eyes, long lashes fanning out as she blinked and moved to chewing a spot of Daisy's beside him. Cas reached out and picked one of the small flowers. It was soft, he could smell the pollen, see the bright yellow colour. Perhaps if he was game he could tatse the earth in it. The cow was enjoying them, maybe Cas would to. He took a bite and chewed the flower, pulling a sour face and spitting it back out. He'd allow the cow to enjoy them. 

He looked up at the sky and reveled in the sunrise. His stomach churned. He was still starving. The sky was a mix of bright orange and pink, a slither of blue rising as the sun did, peeking out from behind the clouds to slowly fill the space above him in a sky blue. He looked at the sun, it hurt. He smelt the cow pats around him, it was disgusting. He heard the wind and the birds, it was loud. 

The cow started to walk, pushing Cas off her leg as she wandered the field. Cas followed, watching the way her tail swatted the flies. She wandered over to a small lake. The water was brown, leaves floating gently on the surface. The cow took a drink, it's fleshy lips parting as it lapped up the water into its huge mouth. Cas’ throat suddenly felt dry. So he mimicked the cow. Dipping his mouth into the water and lapping it up with his tongue. It was satisfying, cold and regressing his head felt more clear. He drank until his stomach sloshed. The cow kept gulping long after Cas was completed. He simply watched the animal drink. It’s eyes truly were beautiful. 

Then Cas felt his stomach clench. 

He needed to evacuate his bowels.

Cas did not like that human action.


	15. Dream a Little dream of me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took awhile. I'm sorry but I tried to make it a longer one to make up for it!

Dean got the call at midnight. Sammy was still asleep, a mythology book open on his face as he snored away. Dean couldn't sleep. The small amount he got that one night was keeping him going, he just couldn't risk having another one of those...Dreams. it wasn't a nightmare, it felt too real. Dean knew nightmares, they've been old friends since he was a kid and they got to know each other even better when Dean popped back up from the grave. It felt like he was always drawing. He got his journal out to write the dream in and try to understand it but he only got halfway before he was trying to sketch out the black feathers. If there was some random napkins around he would draw Cas’ eyes, the gold feather, the black feathers, his bedroom, Max. He tried to grab them all before Sam noticed, shove them away in that biscuit tin just like all the rest of his secrets but he had a deep gut fear that he missed a few. 

He didn't want Sam asking questions, getting worried, just being Sam. Dean was fine. Yeah the whole kill-the-first-ever-love-of-your-life's-dad threw him off but he was alright now. He only needed one bottle of whiskey to get through last night, Dean chalked that up as improvement. 

The call was from some pissed off farmer that found some guy in his field with his prize winning cow and only one number in his phone. He kept going on and on about the bloody cow, as if somehow Cas had ruined its ability to produce milk just by sleeping next to it. Cas sleeping, that was what worried Dean more than anything. He had woken up Sam who gathered both their things as Dean tried to get an address off the old man so they could go driving out there and grab him. Texas. He was in Texas. They were in Kentucky. It was going to be a long drive. 

————————————————

I never wanted this life. I wanted a family, maybe be a firefighter, that was my first career choice. To be fair I was 3. Firefighter would have been cool. I could still save people without having to battle the literal devil. That would be nice. And firefighters get Dalmatians right? Having a dog drive around in with you a big truck and saving people from burning buildings would be awesome. 

Maybe in the back of my head I knew what would happen to mum. That I would have to grow up to save her. 

I try not to think about it 

 

————————————————

Sam was scared. Dean didn't stop for 10 hours for the 16 hour drive. Sam didn't know how we was surviving. He didn't eat, didn't drink, didn't even stop for a piss break. Sam wanted a piss break. His legs must be killing him. Stuck in the same position for so long. It took him literally falling asleep at the wheel for Sam to convince him to pull over for an hour or two to rest. 

They pulled up on the side of the road, Dean pushed his seat back and fell asleep right there, ready to set off the second he woke up. Sam left to go piss in the bushes, he'd been holding it for over two hours. He thought about just pissing into a bottle and hoping Dean would think it's whiskey. That should have been fun. But he didn't hate his brother, he was annoyed but he knew why Dean was acting the way he was. He had read the journal. Cas was more than just a friend to Dean, even if Dean didn't want to accept it. Sam still felt like he was missing something. Something Cas said maybe, or something Dean wrote. Just another thing for him to figure out about his brother. 

————————————————

I didn't think malnutrition did anything when I was a kid. I just knew I was hungry but Sam was hungrier. 

Looking back on it I guess that's why Sam's so tall and smart. 

Dad didn't think that being smart was important but when I stopped getting A’s and started getting C’s it seemed to matter. 

Sam was always the smart one. And he worked hard for it. I'm not saying he was born with the brains but all this higher education bullshit just came naturally to him. 

Sometimes I like to look through college websites and see what courses I'd like to take. It would never happen of course. But it's nice to think about it. 

————————————————

Cas was asleep. It was a strange sensation. The farmer was kind enough to give him a blanket and let him sleep in the barn while he waited for the Winchester's to come find him. The hay was comfortable. The blanket was warm. The barn was dark. His head was pounding. 

He had his first dream.

He knew it was a dream because he felt like he was back in heaven. A sense of perfection. He was surrounded by white, soft cloud under his bare feet. It felt like cotton. There was nothing. He was alone. He laid down on the soft cotton. He felt it engulf him. Swallowing him slowly into the softness. 

Then he smelt smoke. It was rising in soft swirls above his head. Filling his nostrils, clogging his throat. He felt his lungs fill with it. He coughed and the smoke poured out of his mouth. It was black and harsh. He kept cough and it poured out more and more. 

His back hurt. It hurt so much. He could feel the cotton underneath him melting away and him falling through into the black nothingness. He tried to will himself to fly, he knew he could, he had wings after all. He looked over his shoulder. His wings were on fire. The white feathers turning a pitch black, the white bone shining through as they melt away in a flash of red. He screams. 

He screams so hard it hurts but no noise escapes. He keeps falling and falling. Silent and screaming. 

Then he lands. It's soft. He blinks away tears and looks down. There's a naked thigh against his clothed one. He looks further up and there's an arm around his chest. Then he looks over his head at Dean's smiling face. 

“Hey Cas”

His voice was so soft. As if he was truly at peace. Cas smiled. Dreams where ok. He could live with these. Dean's arms were soft and warm around him. His thighs encased around his hips. He could feel Dean's heart thumping against his back. 

He was content there. Laying against Dean. His wings on fire, his lung still coughing smoke. His eyes widened. He was still coughing out smoke. It hurt so badly. His chest was aching. Dean was holding on too tight. His ribs felt like they're where breaking. Crushing into dust as more smoke was forced out of his lungs. The smoke was a dark black. Surrounding them in its plume. He looked up at Dean. His eyes where a pitch black and his smile...It looked like it had been cut into Dean's face. 

“Cas…” his voice was deep. Almost a hiss. It sent a chill down Cas’ spine. He tried to pull away but Dean held his so close. His ribs disappeared altogether as he sunk into Dean's chest. 

“Pretty Bird can't fly" 

Cas was screaming again. Screaming so loud. He didn't like dreams. He didn't like them at all. He kept sinking and sinking. The smoke was everywhere. Dean was laughing. 

He wanted to wake up. 

Wake up.

WAKE UP.


	16. Shucking peas

“Dean, wake up”

Dean slowly blinked awake. Taking in his surroundings. Still in the impala, still on the side of a highway, still worried. He stretched in his seat, rubbing the fuzz from his eyes. Sam offered him one of the many protein bars that his brother ferreted away in the back seats, he only ate half. He could eat when they got to Cas. Maybe Cas was hungry. He would take them out to a diner, get him some bacon and pancakes. If he was going to eat it was going to be Winchester approved. Well Dean Winchester approved, Sam would have him eating salads and smoothies. That was no way to live. 

“You alright?” Sam snapped Dean out of his little bubble. God he was exhausted. 

“Fine” he started the engine. They still had 6 hours left. He got Sam to ring the farmer to get an update on how Cas was doing. The guy didn't care. Said he was screaming in the barn early that morning. Dean hoped he was OK, but it didn't sound like he was. 

He had this weird dream. He was cuddling Cas in a cloud. It was so warm and fluffy, he was so happy. Then Cas was screaming, just screaming at nothing. His body lit up in flames and Dean couldn't let go. Like his flesh had melted into that Goddamn trench coat he always wore. Then Cas’ eyes burned out, the blue melting away down his cheeks leaving hollow sockets. That's when Sam woke him up. He was grateful. He couldn't stand that sight for much longer.   
Sam was still talking to that farmer. Making sure he at least left Cas some food and let them know they where only a few hours away. He's was still going on about the cow. Sam hung up on him. 

————————————————

I miss him.

Not Max this time.

Or dad.

Cas. 

He's only been gone a month. It's not that long. I've been away from Sam longer. He had some business in heaven. 

He sounded scared. 

I hope he's alright.

————————————————

Cas scoffed down the bowl of porridge the farmer had kindly given him. It was warm and soft. It slid down his throat easily and sat heavy in his stomach. It didn't take long for him to regret not savouring his meal. Apparently he had a lot to learn about being human. 

Sam and Dean were on there way. In the meantime the farmer asked him to shuck peas, to keep him useful. Cas enjoyed the task, it was truly the closest he had ever been to god creation. Peeling off the perfectly created husks, the peas small and round, housed in their own personal indentations. It took him two hours to get through the large crate he was given. He was then assigned to digging a hole to be later made into a compost for the tomato's the farmer was later on planning to plant. It was too hot for his coat. His blazer soon followed. His sleeves were rolled up and he was sweating. 

It was amazing. 

He felt his cheeks flush and his shirt stick to his chest and underarms. His hair was slicked back and his arms ached. He loved it. For the first time he felt a true connection of his father's creations. His 'mud monkeys’ as Uriel enjoyed calling them. He could remember Dean digging a hole to bury a vampire in his youth. Even in the cold of night he had stripped down to just his best, sweat dripping off his nose as his arms dig deeper and deeper. He was filthy by the end, covered in sweat and dirt and blood. He had gone straight back to the hotel and fell to sleep in the shower. Cas may have flown down to poke him awake but if Zechariah asked he had done no such thing. 

The sun was unrelenting. Making his skin prickle with its touch. The hole was only half dug. The farmer brought him some water, it was amazing how it cleared his head. His throat was dry and he felt renew when he finished the bottle. The farmer was kind enough to refill it before going back to his daily tasks. 

His shirt came off soon after. His arms were covered in dirt, so where his shoes and pants. But he didn't care. He was happy. He was surrounded by his father's works, enjoying the true essence that he cherished so much. He didn't notice the impala pull up to the old house, nor the brothers rush towards him only to stop in their tracks, staring at his exposed back. 

“Cas…” he turned around smiling at Dean's voice. He had missed it. Then his face dropped, Dean looked scared. 

“What happened to your back?”


	17. Ripped pockets

The mirror was old. Very old. The image reflected obscured by black dots and dirt. It was in a pile of old furniture in the barn that Cas had searched for a bed before accepting the hay. Sam was folding his clothes, sitting on a dusty Ottoman. He was nice, said he would have them cleaned for him, like new he had claimed with a toothy smile. Dean had gone to the car to find Cas some of his clothes from his duffle, there were about the same size. So here he stood, in Jimmy's white boxers, staring at his back in a old dirty mirror. He could see why the Winchester's were so scared. It was a sight to behold. 

Starting at the edges of his shoulder blades and ending just short of his coxas where two large wings. Black and harsh against his white skin. Only they weren't his own beautiful wings.no, he had lost those. These were burned in scars. It look as of the skin was dead, ready to be peeled off to renew the growth by Cas knew they would not move. No matter how deep they dug underneath that skin they would never find the red of rebirth. 

“You've torn the pocket off” Sam said as he pulled on the inner pocket of Cas’ trenchcoat that was holding on by the lower stitching. Cas just sighed, walked over to sit on a garden chair opposite Sam. He could see the cogs turning in the man's mind, his brow furrowed, his mouth slightly open in concentration. Cas didn't need his grace to know that he was thinking. Turning the willing fabric between his fingers, ideas blossoming on the best ways to fix the issue. He has sewn up wounds many times. Cas had watched how at the tender age of 14 his father showed him how to close a knife wound Dean had gained during a particularly nasty witch hunt. At the time Cas was angry. Angry at a man that would allow a child to experiment such a delicate task on his brother. But Sam was a natural, his meticulous nature took over and the line was neat and clean. He didn't tie it off as well as he should and he sewed a bit deeper than necessary but Dean survived. Cas had left that scar on Dean's leg. He believed that the memory associated to it was a happy one and he would enjoy having it made his skin till death should take it. 

“I'll buy some thread. We've already got needles in the kit. Shouldn't be a problem” Cas turned to face Sam. His soft smile warmed his heart. 

“Thank you Sam. I would appreciate that”

————————————————

He trapped him in holey oil. 

I hate to think what Cas was thinking. Stuck there, being taunted by his brother and some snarky demon. 

He was so alone. Gone from an almighty being into some common flesh bag like the rest of us. 

In the car he had looked so determined. So ready to die if he needed too. 

I hated that. I hated that he wanted to die. That he was prepared for it. 

I never want to see that again. I never want him to lose his powers. Not for my sake but for his own. 

I don't think I could survive if I lost him too. 

————————————————

“Here, found you a shirt and some pants. Your feet are bigger so I don't think my shoes will fit. We'll get yours cleaned up at the motel” Dean handed the pile over to Cas who took it gratefully. Standing up to slide the worn jeans on. There was a hole in knee and the hem was fraying but they fit. The next was a loose black undershirt with some band logo on the back. Kansas? It smelt like Dean, hugged him like a soft cloud. 

“Thank you Dean. I'm sorry for inconveniencing you both” Cas didn't know how to feel. He was not use to all these emotions. He knew the brother had to drive for quite a long time so they mustn't have been close. He did know if they were in the middle of a hunt or undergoing some task. He hated the feeling of not knowing. Through the night he couldn't see where they were. He couldn't pop in and out, check on them, make sure that they were doing this because they could, not because they had too. 

Then he looked up at Dean’s face. He looked so hurt. 

“Cas, you could never inconvenience us. Besides we we're pretty fucking board. A road trip was just the thing" Dean placed his hand on Cas’ shoulder, giving him a smile and a wink before grabbing his shoes from the pile and nodding towards the impala. 

“We better get going before you defile old MacDonald's cow anymore” Cas squinted, confused as he stood up and followed Sam and Dean to the car.

“I didn't defile any cow. I may have slept with her however”

“Yeah let's all stick to that story in court”


	18. Mine

The motel was on the nicer side. Two large queen beds, a decent tv and a kitchen that was free of mold. Overall, it was the most decent place they had stayed in years. Sam was at the kitchen table, sewing Cas’ pocket back on. Cas in turn was watching in fascination as he ate a two large peanut butter and salt and vinegar chip sandwiches. Dean was on the bed, watching dr sexy on low as he cleaned the dirt and mud from Cas’ shoes. He really did manage to fill them with cow shit. 

“Alright all fixed. Just needs a wash and it's good to go” Dean looked up as Sam passed the fixed coat to Cas who took it gratefully. He pulled on the pocket and another the stitches with his fingers. Dean had to remember to blink for a second. 

“Why don't you take Cas with you down to the laundromat? That's one hell of a human experience for him. Borrow a pair of Sam's clown shoes for now” Dean threw Sam the keys to the impala which he caught easily. He watched Sam garb Cas’ clothes along with a few of there's, shoving them into a plastic shopping bag and giving it to Cas. 

“Alright sounds good. We'll grab some food while we're out. Better lay low till we figure out what's happening” Cas stood up, smiling with childlike glee at the idea of laundry. He held the bag of dirty clothes to his chest as he stood at Sam's side. Man Sam was a giant. Either that or Cas was just tiny. 

“Let Cas pick. First decent meal might aswell be a good one” Dean stood up and smiled at Cas who smiled back. He reached into his pocket and pull out his wallet, handing Cas over a few 20’s and giving Sam whatever change he had for the machines. 

“Thank you Dean" Dean could feel his heart melt. He had never heard such a genuine thank you directed at him in his life. Cas’ voice was so soft and his eyes so purely honest. Then he was gone. Trailing behind Sam as they drove off. 

He didn't eat his crusts. Two squares of empty bread on the plate. He would remember to cut them off next time. His shoes were still on the bed, clean of dirt and shit but in desperate need of a polish. New shoe laces would be a good idea too. He should make a list. 

————————————————

Things to get Cas though human life 

Shoelaces  
Underwear (not that old man boxer shit)   
Socks  
Shoes   
A pair of jeans and sweatpants   
New shirts   
Shaver  
Toothbrush  
Peanut butter   
Salt and vinegar chips 

 

————————————————

He closed his journal. Tucking it back away for later. He should by Cas one of those. Dean knew Sam had a word document that was his version of dad's journal. He had found it once while looking for the archive of weird symbols they had collected over the years to win a bet against Rufus. He only read a sentence before he realised what it was. He felt guilty for months. 

He was glad Sam never found out. He always asked since for Sam to find stuff for him. Sam thought he was an idiot when it came to computers. He was ok with that. Meant less research for him and more for Sammy. 

He took Cas’ shoes into the bathroom. Holding them in the sink as he found some old shoe polish in Sam's toiletry bag. He grabbed the motel face towel and coated it in a good layer of the black polish, rubbing it into the poor leather, ridding it of the grey matte colour it had taken on. Bringing life back into them. He felt better. Seeing a part of Cas look like itself again. He loved Cas in his clothes. But he always liked people in his clothes. Cassie use to wear his shirts. A long time ago but he still remembers it vividly. He loved how she felt comfortable in them, how they swallowed her small body. He felt like for once in his life he was sharing because he wanted to, not because he had to. For years he shared everything. He rarely had something of his own. His journal was the first. His clothes where the second. Him and Sam were different sizes now. So suddenly he had two things that we're his and his alone. Sam had grabbed a pair of his jeans once on accident. Dean had to admit it was pretty funny seeing his brother pull in a pair of pants that stopped at his thighs and toppled that giant over when he tried to stand up to pull them off. 

Where was he? Oh yes Cas in his clothes. They didn't swallow him like they did Cassie. Him and Cas were around the same size so they fit. But Dean trusted him enough to take care of them. He didn't trust just anyone with his clothes. From the outside it looked like he just gave the guy some of his old crappy clothes but Dean loved that shirt. He truly did. It was one of the few things dad had bought him purely as a gift in his life. He was 18 and dad knew a hunter that took his son out to the concert on the hunt for some classic rocker werewolf so he asked him to pick up a tour shirt for Dean while he was there. Dean loved that shirt. Worn it till it was thin and soft. The jeans were the ones he was wearing when he reunited with Sam. That Ghost Hunt managed to tear a hole right across his knee. From there it just got worse. Soon they became his sleeping jeans. The hardness of the denim was worn down till he could no longer tell they were jeans anymore. All in all he had given Cas his most treasured clothes. He had given up his most comfortable and most sentimental items to wear. Because he wanted Cas to enjoy wearing his clothes. He wanted, after living in that tight suit and pitching dress shoes for so long, for Cas to feel at home, to feel comfortable in what he was wearing. 

He heard the impala pull up outside. The familiar roar of the engine. Sam and Cas entered with the same plastic bag but now permanenting the smell of lavender and soap as well as a stack of pizza boxes. 

Cas had good taste.


	19. Cold feet

Sam found a hunt. He hadn't told Dean. It had been just a week since they had gathered Cas up from the farm and introduced him to the fun world of being human. So far he had found out Jimmy was lactose intolerant, that spicy food hurt, trapped wind was horrible and sneezing was shockingly random and often messy. He had also found out that he loved broccoli and cheese, that sleeping was amazing and Dr Sexy MD was a piece of artistry. So overall he was doing alright. But Sam liked newspapers. Not just for the opportunity to find wierd local deaths but for the happy go lucky stories, the punny titles of mundane events and of course the cross words. He always gave Dean the funnies of course and Cas was partial to spot the difference. That's how he found it. He wasn't looking for a hunt, in fact him and Dean where activity avoiding them since Cas joined the team. All the focus was on why he was like he is, what those scars were about and where his grace had gone to. But then Sam had stumbled on a woman who was split in half by her wooden chopping board exploding in a locked house. It was just screaming Poltergeist. He had been looking it up in secret when Cas and Dean slept. So get this, a woman died in the house over ten years ago when her father finds out she's been sleeping with his step-sister. He then goes over to the step-sister's house and slits her throat, brings her back to his place and buries both in the house before the police show up due to raised voices. They never found the bodies, even after digging the whole garden up, but he was convicted of tax evasion and died of a heart attack in his prison cell. The house then gets passed down to the step-sisters cousin who, and get this, looks almost exactly like the step-sister 10 years ago. 

An open and shut case. Easy and quick. Him and Dean could get it done in two days tops. But there's Cas. Dean freaked out when he managed to cut his thumb on a knife while doing the dishes. Sam didn't want to even think about what would happen if he went in a hunt with them and obtained a real injury.

But they couldn't just leave him alone. Sam felt so sorry for the guy. He wanted to help but couldn't, he knew if he brought up the hunt it would just be another reminder that he didn't have his powers and Cas’ sense of self worth would go down even more. He was still good at things. He could translate books, find the false from the real in lore and he wasn't half bad at folding laundry. But still, Sam could see it in his eyes, he felt like he was nothing without his grace. 

So Sam kept quiet. He made lunch and kept looking for a way to get Cas his mojo back. Dean had left to grab some things from the shops with Cas in tow. Now Cas was human he always seemed to be cold so he needed another jacket so he would stop stealing all the blankets in the middle of the night, he had snapped his laces learning to tie them and used half his toothpaste in three days because he thought he needed to reapply for each tooth. To be fair his breath was always amazingly fresh. 

So far he had found exactly three ways to maybe get Cas back in heaven for a few minutes at most. Two of which included sacrificing a baby and the third needed a feather from some extinct animal that definitely didn't exist. So, the outlook was not good. Sam pulled up the hunt again, flicking through all the police reports and news articles. Maybe he should send it to Bobby, he would know a hunter nearby to take care of it. They were the hunter near by though. What if the next guy was in another state, what if more people got hurt all because their circumstances weren't great right now. Maybe he could do it solo, sneak out at night when Dean and Cas were sleeping and get the job done. He could be back in time. Maybe. If he was right and the body's where in the basement. If he was wrong, well. 

He heard the car pull up, Dean walking to the door. Cas’ footsteps behind him. Sam quickly shut his laptop, tucking the newspaper underneath it as he stood up to clean his plates. 

“Cas I promise you can have the bed tonight because I swear to god if I have to wake up to you shivering on the couch again I'm going to lose my mind” Dean dropped two plastic bags on the table and pulled out a big fluffy blue blanket, two tubes of toothpaste, a set of black laces and a pair of fluffy white socks. 

“What's all this?” Sam walked over and picked the blanket. It was amazingly soft and thick. His first here just sank right into it as it started to soak up his body heat. 

“Supplies. I refuse to endure another freezing cold night case Cas’ has cold little feet” Dean said as he threw the socks at Cas who caught them with a shy smile. 

“Sorry. I'm not use to this vessel” Sam laughed and walked over to wrap the blanket around Cas’ shoulders. 

“You'll get there. It's only been a few days” Cas smiled and placed his hand on Sam's shoulder, squeezing it in a gentle thanks. Sam watched as he headed to the bed, laying the socks and blanket down. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dean pull something from the plastic bags and stash it in his jacket pocket. He threw Sam the shoelaces and headed to put the toothpaste away. Sam grabbed Cas’ shoes and sat down on the couch to re-lace them, throwing the remote at a surprised Cas. 

“Have you found anything in regards to my situation?” Cas asked as he sat next to Sam, flicking through the channels till he found Dr Sexy MD. Sam sighed, pushing his hair back from his face. 

“I'll keep looking” 

————————————————

Cas kept falling. Faster and faster. Darker and darker. He pushed through naked tree branches that cut his face and arms. Blood soaking through his white shirt, making his black pants stick to his legs. He screamed and screamed. His eyes were open but he couldn't see anything. 

Then he landed. His back was cushion by someone's chest, his clothes were still sticky with blood. He opened his eyes. He didn't even know they where closed. 

“baby bird. So dirty. Need you clean. Clean those pretty feathers” Dean was nuzzling into his neck, placing soft kisses over his pulse point. His hands were soft. They trailed down his chest, over his arms, fingers locked together. 

“Get these off you, come on baby bird. Gotta clean your feathers” Dean moved his hands to his shirt and Cas unbuttoned it for him, looking down at his scarred chest, marks from his fall marring his skin. Dean didn't seem to care, smearing his blood with his hands. Painting with it on his stomach. A satisfied moan bubbles up from Dean's chest, Cas could feel it against his back. 

“Perfect, so perfect. Come on little bird, only half clean. Gotta make you all clean. Need my Birdy perfect” Cas tensed, he had seen Dean's conquests, he knew he hated sex, knew it sickened him. He didn't want this if Dean didn't. He wanted Dean happy. Sex didn't make Dean happy. 

But he wasn't stopping him. He didn't know how. Dean's hands moved to his thighs, running his fingers up and down the pressed creases. Humming to himself as he undid his belt, pushed the button free and pulled the zip down slowly. 

“Mm yes, Cas. So perfect. You want this. I know you do. You're not like me. You're human now. Brand new, unmarred. Perfect. Perfect men want this. You want to be a perfect human right? You have to be Cas. You're human now. Just like me and Sam. You have to be the perfect man. Otherwise you won't belong. Not in heaven. Not on earth. You'll be nothing Cas” 

Cas wanted to run. Tears were rolling down his cheeks. Dean was still stripping his pants off. Still playing with the blood covering him. 

“Dean please” Cas was thrashing. Pulling to get free but Dean held him tight, so tight it hurt. 

“You want to be perfect. Want to fit in. You have to Cas. You have to” 

Dean was stroking him, his soft hands tugging as he felt his cock swell against his will. He kicked and scream, he begged and cried. 

“No! Dean no! Let me go! Let me go!” 

He was sobbing so hard it hurt. He had become one of Dean's masks. A way to appease his father he didn't want that. He never wanted that. It hurt Dean so much. He never wanted to hurt Dean. This would hurt him. It would always hurt him. 

“Dean! Dean! No!”

————————————————

“Hey! Hey Cas! Wake up! It's a dream wake up!” Sam woke up to Dean shouting. He pulled the covers off himself and sat up watching Dean as he shook a whimpering Cas, holding his shoulders so tight that his knuckles were turning white. Cas just kept kicking and screaming, half words forming on his lips. Sam look at his brother face. His eyes were gleaming, shiny with tears that he refused to let fall. He was scared. This was the first night Cas had slept soundly. Every other night was woke up cold, needing a piss before finding any large surface of fabric that was not nailed down to cocoon himself in. It was a reminder that Cas was vulnerable. He was human. 

“I'll grab some water, you just keep trying to get awake” Sam walked to the kitchen, grabbing a chipped mug from the cupboard and filling it with tap water. He could hear Dean still trying g to wake Cas. He was settling down but he was awake. Then Sam heard a gasp and Dean sighed in relief. Sam handed the mug over to cas, helping him hold it steady as he took a sip. Dean was still holding his shoulder tight in one hand. Sam knew he had forgotten to let go. Or that he just didn't want to. 

Cas slowly finished the water. Handing the mug back to Sam as he pulled himself free of both Dean and the blankets. Rushing into the bathroom and locking the door. Dean made a move to follow but Sam grabbed his wrist and shook his head gently. Dean hugged and went back to the couch, sitting down to watch the bathroom door as they heard the shower start to run. 

“What did you find about getting Cas his mojo back?” Dean's voice was rough with sleep, his hair a mess as he run his fingers through it nervously. Sam sighed. 

“Nothing good”

Dean groaned and stood up, grabbing his journal from his duffle. 

“Let me know when he comes out. The impala needs a tune”


	20. Counting stars

I keep seeing him in pain. Cas has been in Pain before. I had seen it. Cut open, beaten, destroyed by his own kind while he stood at our side. But I don't know why this was different. 

I guess before Cas could heal. He could get better. But now….

Well now all he had was me and Sam trying to make things better. And you've gotta admit we kinda suck at it. 

He kept screaming. It woke me up. I don't know how it didn't wake up Sam. He just kept screaming. 

I never want to hear that again. 

I will make sure of it. 

————————————————

Cas waited over ten minutes for his erection to disappear. He tried having a shower but he hated looking at it. He kept the water on anyway so the brother's wouldn't worry. He had seen Dean deal with himself before. It was a human function and Dean wasn't one to dwell on it any longer than he would brushing his teeth or relieving himself. Cas was equally not a fan. He wasn't sure if it was the act itself he did not like or what he associated with it because of his time.observing the Winchester family. Sam saw it as something to relax but not a necessity, he was not one to actively seek out an orgasum but if it progressed in that direction he was ok with it and would enjoy it. John found it a necessity as a man and often sought it out to prove himself, hence the joys of his many one night stands after Mary's unfortunate demise. Dean, well Cas new Dean's feelings on the matter all too well. It was the dream. The dream was still spinning around his head. He could feel dean's hands on him, so warm. It felt nice. He enjoyed Dean touching him. He liked the closeness, the intimacy. His heart thumped in his chest, it hurt. 

He turned off the shower and sat down on the toilet lid. He would have to speak to Dean about it. He couldn't hold onto this secret. It burnt a hole through his stomach, sitting at the pit of his groin like lead. Perhaps it was for the best that Dean cast him away soon rather than later. Cas wasn't certain his heart took take the rejection should he be allowed to stay with the Winchester's and further their comfortable friendship. 

He stood up and unlocked the door. Stepping out back into the main room he saw his coat hanging up on the bed post and moved to grab it. 

“Hey, you alright?” Cas fingers just brushed the soft collar as Sam spoke up. His hands were in his pockets making his shoulders hunch down. It made him look smaller, less threatening. As if Sam could ever be a threat. 

“I'm fine. I'm simply not use to sleeping just yet” Cas pulled the coat around his cold body. While Dean had bought him pajamas in a soft fleece Cas much prefered his undershirt and a pair of Dean's trackpants. 

“Dean's playing with the car. He asked me to tell him when you got out. I can wait though if you want? I made coffee” Sam gestured to the steaming coffee pot and the two mugs he had set out on the counter. He had even gone as far as pulling out the last sleeve of chocolate chip cookies that Cas loved so much. Cas sighed and looked out the window at Dean, bent over the open hood of the car, using his phone for light as he held it in his mouth. He needed to talk to him. Pull it off like a band-aid. One swift move. 

“Perhaps I'll take a cup out to Dean” Cas smiled at Sam. It felt tight on his face, a smile that wasn't meant to be there. Sam could tell. But he made the coffee anyway, filled the glass with black coffee and slipping in one spoonful of sugar before handing it over to Cas. 

“I'll hide the cookies for you. Once he knows they're here they'll be gone” Cas couldn't hold back his smile. This one felt better, natural. It grew as he saw Sam's face light up in triumph. Cas placed the coffee down on the kitchen table before pulling Sam in for a hug. His face buried in his shoulder as he pulled him down. Hands gripping Sam's flannel shirt with white knuckles. 

“Thank you" Cas could feel Sam's heart thumping against his where their chests were pressed together. His hands around Cas’ shoulders, rubbing between the blades unsure of what was happening. 

“No worries. I'll buy some more tomorrow anyway. Snickerdoodles ok with you?” Cas laughed and pulled away. 

“Yeah, yeah they're perfect” 

 

————————————————

When Cas first laid eyes on his father's creations he was in awe. The humans were so complex and so different. He devoted his time to understanding the nuances of their lives, understanding their motives and emotions. He had seen them grow from the purity of Adam and Eve to the perfectly sinful creatures he had grown to love.

Then his father created Dean Winchester and his awe was renewed. 

As a baby he was curious, finding all the things he wasn't allowed to play with and dragging them back to his crib. As a boy he loved to climb as high as he could. Cas often thought that he was trying to climb towards heaven, towards his mother. In times of hardship he could be found on in the tops of trees or on the roofs of motels. He never fell but Cas often feared he would.   
Cas loved to join him in those high areas, sitting beside him as he started into the sky. He could hear him trying to count the stars in his head. He would lose track at 200 so Cas would continue for him till he left. He reached 7 billion one day. He would have counted forever if knowing the exact number would make him happy. 

That stopped after he lost his innocence. He no longer climbed, no longer counted. He was no longer curious. 

It broke Cas’ heart.

But that's the thing about humans. They never stay the same for very long. Always changing, always evolving. 

He only wished they didn't.

————————————————

The coffee was nice. Perfectly sweet and warm. He savoured it as he and Cas sat on the trunk of the impala, looking towards the sky in silence. The moon was full, bathing them both in light. 

It was early morning when Cas finally feel back to sleep. Face relaxed and eyes fluttering softly under his eyelids. Dean delved into his duffel, pulling out the plastic wrapped journal. He unwrapped it and turned to the back page. Sitting on one of the crappy motel armchairs he watched Cas sleeping soundly, hopefully having better dreams than earlier, and started drawing. 

He slid the rewrapped journal inside Cas’ inner coat pocket and added one of the motel pens alongside it. 

He grabbed a pile of empty shotgun shells and begun to fill them with rock salt. Cas would have shooting practice in the morning. Dean wasn't scared anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tried to make it a long one because it's so late! Sorry got caught up in uni and work but now I'm on break so I'm back at it! 
> 
> Hopefully you enjoyed!


	21. Runaway angel

Dean woke up with rock salt in his stubble and a crick in his neck. His eyes felt heavy and his bladder was very present. But when he opened his eyes nothing mattered. He was looking straight at Cas’ bed, sheets crumpled in one corner and pillows thrown everywhere. It was empty. So? It was empty, maybe Cas was in the bathroom or getting the coffee ready but one thing made Dean certain that Cas was doing neither of those things. His coat was missing. 

Sam was fast asleep. Long hair covering his face as he slept on his stomach, still in his undershirt and jeans, covers only covering one sock clad foot. Dean stood up, empty shotgun shells falling from his lap and onto the carpet without a sound as he grabbed his phone and tried the burner they had given Cas a few days ago for emergencies. It rang out. So Dean tried it again. And again. And once more for luck. 

“Come on Cas answer your phone” he gritted his teeth and prayed to anyone who would listen that Cas would have the common sense to pick up his phone before Dean killed him. But there was no reply. From anyone. 

————————————————

Cas wasn't a fool. He knew how to disappear. He had been watching the Winchester's do it for years. He was confident Dean would be unable to find him once he left the night bus. Was he didn't think of was his phone. He could feel it vibrating in his pocket. Over and over again. He knew it was Dean. No one else had the number. He wanted to answer it so badly but he had made up his mind. It was best that he leave. At least that's was what he was telling himself. He was so scared of hurting Dean, figuring out his feelings towards him and risking exile from the only being he truly cared about. Leaving was for the best. 

So, at the next bus stop he dumped his phone in a pile of apple crates sitting on the side of a long corn field. It could ring till the battery failed and by then he would be long gone. 

He took the next bus, heading who knows where. As long it was away from the Winchester's he didn't care. 

————————————————

“Are you sure he didn't just pop out to do the shopping or something else that logical?” Sam watched as his brother tapped away on the computer looking up the credit cards he had lent to cas, if the burner phone had a GPS he could hack into and any form of security camera within ten miles he could work on cracking but Sam knew it would be useless. If Cas really was gone he would know how to do it. Losing his grace wasn't an excuse for him to start getting sloppy. 

“Would you quit asking that, yes I'm sure! His coats gone, he's not picking up his phone and….look he pulled a couple of hundred from the card I gave him” Dean turned the screen to show Sam the evidence. His face a mix of ‘I told you so’ and ‘I wish I wasn't right’. Sam sighed, running his large hand through his hair as he clenched his jaw and nodded in agreement. 

“Fine. So...where do we start?” 

————————————————

Cas found the journal three days into his trip when he was serving his pockets for spare change to buy a packet of chips from a vending machine at some empty train station. He was confused at first but then he opened it and saw himself, peacefully captured in a moment of deep sleep with a blue pen and Dean's signature underneath it. 

Cas knew how much Dean’s own journal meant to him. He was always careful not to look over his shoulder as he was writing in it. Dean was allowed some graces in life and if that was simply a collection of scribbles on paper Cas was happy to comply. 

The light kept flickering as the bus passed different streetlights, the road dusty and bumpy as Cas had given up on sleep till the next rest stop was reached. So he found the pen. The motel name printed badly on the side, blue ink already crusted on the tip from Dean using it to draw the sleeping angel. 

And he began to write.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly if you're still reading this thank you because I am terrible at giving you guys content. I'm taking forever to update this and if you're still around I'm amazed! 
> 
> So thank you so much for reading my terrible stories and supporting this world I've created!


	22. Please leave a message after the tone

Perhaps I should start from the beginning. But that would take an undefinable amount of pages and this journal has provided only a finite amount. So I'll briefly discuss; 

I was created at the dawn of time. Developed and ready for battle. My brothers woke up around me and we looked to each other in our first few seconds of weakness. Then our father switched our programing on and we knew what to do. The world was nothing. Just dirt and sea. The father created life and I knew I would be tasked with watching over them. I sat on my perch and watched your kind grow from cells to fish to mammals to monkeys and finally to the first humans. Adam was kind and Eve was gentle. Then they ate the fruit and true humankind began. 

As you breed and branched out my father pushed me towards one line. One group of humans that had been breeding from the start. Who, from Eve's womb, grew into the Winchester bloodline. 

I knew then my real task. 

Dean, I am unsure if you will ever read this, as unsure I am that I will ever return to you, but if you do know that I watched you since your first cell was created. I counted the cells as the split and grew and to this day I know exactly how many cells it took to make the great Dean Winchester. I know how many stars you have counted in your life as I counted along with you. One day I will tell you how many stars my father created and how many cells created you. If I die before then please know nothing is more precious to me than those numbers. 

The great philosopher Socrates believed maths was the very essence of the world. That numbers would always explain what humans found so hard to define. 

I now can see why he was so right. 

Numbers and you are intertwined. The number of years, days, hours, seconds you have lived, the number of freckles on your face, the number of fingers and toes attached to you, the number of scars I took from your body…...all numbers…..but, Dean, they are so important to me. 

I know you never liked math at school. I remember in preschool you complained about learning how to count on your fingers because it would forever be impossible for you to count in this manner beyond 10. You found it unfair that you should learn numbers beyond 10 since god had not given the correct tools to count to these numbers. 

While you blamed my father I laughed. One day you would count beyond ten and this little argument would forever be forgotten in your mind. It was not important. But I will remember it long after I have passed. 

Numbers.

Remarkable things. 

Perhaps I should explain why I left you. That is after all the main reason this journal should ever grace your eyes. You left it for me to explain my innermost thoughts, as you do, but, you see, I do not wish to keep my innermost thoughts from you. Dean, you are who I was created for. Your life, your legacy, I was created to protect it. So I do not write for myself I write for you. 

I hope this journal finds you when I am dead for I fear if you should find it while I still breath in this mortal body. I know my grace will never be returned. I will never be able to get back into heaven and become the all powerful angel you have gotten to know. 

But, Dean, I need you to know, grace or no, I am forever your guardian angel. 

Your's sincerely,  
Castiel 

 

————————————————

“we've already looked through every CCTV camera in the state! There's nowhere else to look Dean! Face it we have no leads, he knew what he was doing” Sam ran his fingers through his hair with a deep sigh. Throwing his empty coffee cup into the bin at the ratty old bus stop they had pulled up to for a piss and a stretch. Dean was kicking the dirt, hands balled up in tight fists as he looked out on the rows of corn growing as far as the eye could see. 

“He's not that smart. He's pretty with it but he's human now, there's room for human error. Before he was an all powerful being pumped up full of godly wisdom and disappearing mojo. He has to have made a mistake somewhere! We just have to keep looking!” Dean's teeth were grinding on eachother so hard it made Sam wince in sympathy. So he let his shoulders hunch in and closed his eyes. 

“We'll go over the credit card stuff again when we reach a motel. Maybe we missed something” Dean let out a long sigh, slumping onto a pile of apple crates as he pulled out his phone. Thumb hovering over Cas’ number. It was no good. He had been ringing for days with no answer. He figured he had about one voice message left before he filled up the message box. He had to make it count. Had to say the right words. But he didn't know what those where. 

“Thanks. I know I've been riding you hard about this but he can't survive out there on his own. Not when he's a bouncing baby human. He'll be torn to shreds by God knows what crawls out of the woodwork” Sam walked over to his brother and placed on large hand on his broad shoulder, squeezing it tightly with an equally tight lipped smile. 

“It's ok. I get it. We'll find him. How about I find us a motel, I can't stand another night sleeping on leather” Dean smiled and laughed, pushing Sam's hand off. 

“What did you say about my baby, bitch?” Sam laughed back as he walked off to grab the map from the glove box. 

“Nothing, Jerk” Dean watched as Sam walked off down the road, getting his bearings as he looked for a rest stop on the map. Then he looked back down at his phone, cas’ contact details still lit up, his pname had that stupid angle emoji next to it because he thought it was cute when Dean was entering his burner phone into his contacts list. He wondered if he had kept the journal, or of he had even found it. Dean hoped he knew what that gesture meant, he hoped he knew what Dean wanted him to do with it. And, more than anything, Dean hoped he would never have to read it. 

So he looked down at the contact details, thumb hovering over the call icon. And he clicked. 

He lifted his phone to his ear, not know what he would say but knowing whatever it was it would be the truth. He was not going to think, he was just going to talk. Perhaps all the things he had been repressing would come flowing out. Perhaps he would feel lighter, freer after this last message. Perhaps he would finally know….know whatever this thing was he was feeling. This burning in his chest, the warm glow in his stomach, the ache in his heart. Perhaps-

The crate was ringing. 

Either that or his ass had one hell of a ring tone. 

Cas’ ringtone. 

Dean stood up so fast his head spun for a few seconds as he overturned the pile of apples crates he was sitting on like a madman. Phone still pressed to his ear as it rang. Then something fell out onto the dirt road with a clatter. And Dean laughed, loud and bright. 

The message tone beeped as Dean looked down at Cas’ phone, silent now as it waited to take Dean's message. 

“Cas, you beautiful son of a bitch”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 chapters so quickly?! What is going on?! I dont know either!! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter and let me know what you think about me introducing Cas' journal into the mix.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a headcannon I had while watching season two 
> 
> http://wewheresobeautiful.tumblr.com/post/138976096243/oh-idea-bisexual-sex-repulsed-dean-forcing


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